


Let's Go to the North Pole

by agirlintheville



Series: 100 Dates [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas pick up lines, M/M, Mall Santa - Freeform, Seasonal Affective Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlintheville/pseuds/agirlintheville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So far it hasn't been a wonderful time of the year for Bruce, but perhaps meeting a Santa Claus impersonator will change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey cutie, wanna sit on my lap and tell me how you've been a good boy?"

Bruce glanced over to his right at the man who was leaning against the edge of the bar. He was dressed in a baggy red coat with matching baggy pants and dusty black boots. A droopy red hat sat askew on his short blond hair, and he was grinning around the straw of the drink that was in his hand. The crooked grin crinkled his bright blue eyes and the bagginess of his clothing did nothing to hide his thick arms and strong physique.

Entering into a bit of banter with a cute stranger was something that Bruce didn't have a lot of opportunity to do, but he didn't welcome it today. It had been a long cold day. He wasn't in the best mental space for a flirtatious back and forth.

"Sorry, I don't sit on strangers' laps," Bruce replied politely.

"Aw, come on, I'm not a stranger. I'm Santa Claus!"

Bruce snorted and rolled his eyes. The man's grin widened, and he leaned forward to whisper, "Aren't you even a little interested in seeing a north pole?"

"Oh, wow. That was terrible, and I'm leaving." Bruce pushed his empty glass away, and dropped a few bills on the bar. As he walked away, he heard the man laugh brightly, and call after him, "Guess I'll have to get you two lumps this Christmas! 

Shaking his head, Bruce huddled deeper in his coat, and pushed his way out of the bar.

****

"Bruce? You've been quiet this morning."

Bruce grimaced, and looked over at Betty, who was wiping down the counter top by the cash register.

The mall had just opened a few minutes ago, and no one had come into the coffee shop yet. Bruce was using the down time to slump tiredly by the toaster oven. But Betty, who hated being idle, was making sure that all their display areas were spotless for the rush of holiday shoppers.

"Sorry, just tired," he straightened and tried to act normal. "Didn't get much sleep last night."

Betty paused in her cleaning, "You're going to burn yourself out. And right before the holidays too."

"I'll be fine, Betts. I can keep going for a few more days." 

She gave him a doubting look, but didn't push it any further. "Okay, well I'm going to straighten the back. You're okay up here?"

As he nodded, she grabbed her cleaning supplies and disappeared through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

Bruce moved to the front counter, and hunched over it, his head in his hands. He had tried convince himself that his weariness and self imposed isolation was just because it was getting colder, but he knew it was happening again. He could feel it slowly creeping over him, like a slow moving dense fog. Every winter, he told himself that he wouldn't let it get this bad, and every winter, he slipped into the numbness, the irritability, the feeling of hopelessness. 

"Aw cutie, I know you're sad that you're on the naughty list, but I can get you off."

Bruce jerked his head up and stared. Santa Claus was standing in front of him.

His white beard was long and full, his red coat was taut over his big belly, and a wide black belt strained around his waist. His red hat sat firmly on his head, and his black boots shone brightly. 

Bruce wouldn't have recognized him, except for the crinkles around his blue eyes. The man from the bar last night. Now, with his costume all in place, Bruce could actually see where he could fool young children in believing he was the real thing. He even had a bright and cheery twinkle in his eye. 

Bruce took in the sight in front of him while Santa continued to grin. Then belatedly, he cleared his throat and said, "Um. I'm not sure if Santa Claus should be saying sexual innuendos where children might be able to hear him."

The man twisted around and looked in all directions. "I don't see any children. Or any other customers really. So I think I'm alright." 

He looked back at Bruce, and his smile dimmed a little. "Geez, you don't look so good. Are you okay?"

The question exploded in his mind. Was he okay? He had spent last night bundled in the blankets on his couch, watching reruns of music videos because the constant worry and doubts in his head wouldn't stop circling round and round. At some point, his body gave out, and let him sleep for a couple of hours. This had happened every night for the past week, and it was only going to get worse. No, he wasn't okay.

"I'm fine, thanks. What can I get you today?"

"Besides you, all wrapped up in a bow?" The grin returned full force. "A tall latte will be just fine."

Bruce nodded, and moved towards to the espresso machine to start the drink. He glanced up once to see that the man was staring at him. Feeling his face heat, Bruce focused on his task.

"I'm Clint." 

Bruce paused for a second, flicking his eyes up to meet the blue ones across the counter.

"Bruce. Here's your coffee," he slid the paper cup across the counter, and then tucked his hands in his pockets.

"Thanks, cutie." Clint accepted the cup, but didn't move away. Instead, he stared at Bruce, his eyes trailing over his face.

Bruce blushed fiercely. He hadn't had anyone look so closely at him in a long time. Santa's gaze seemed incredibly intimate, caressing even. Santa was caressing his face with his eyes. The thought bounced around wildly his mind, and caused him to blurt out, "What are you staring at?"

"Hmm? Oh nothing, just trying to memorize what you look like so I can make sure that to be really detailed on my Christmas wish list."

Bruce blinked, and shook his head, "You have terrible pick up lines. Where are you getting these?"

Chuckling, Clint dropped a five dollar bill on the counter, and another five in the tip jar. "Would you believe me if I said there's a page of them in the Santa Impersonator Orientation packet?"

"I..." Bruce paused a second and thought.  "No, I don't think I would."

Clint's chuckles turned to loud laughter. "Don't blame you. Hey, I hope your day gets better. And come check me out by the Macy's. I'll make sure you get everything wish for...and more." With a final wink, he raised his coffee in a salute and walked out of the shop.

Bruce stared after him, watching as he weaved his way through the few people who were shopping at his hour. _I hope your day gets better._ It had sounded sincere, and honestly given. Bruce let it reverberate in his mind like a mantra. Maybe the day would get better.

They got slammed with customers 15 minutes after Clint had left- so much for mantras and good wishes.

In the chaos of the various drink and treat orders, someone had left with the wrong coffee. That meant that he had to remake the original drink while the customer yelled at him for messing up a simple task. Betty also had to give the guy a free scone before he was appeased. Bruce could still hear him muttering about their crappy service as he left the shop.

His anger over a situation that wasn't his fault and the guilt over not pleasing a customer caused him to hyper vigilant with the rest of the orders. He knew he was coming off angry and short with the customers. He could see Betty shooting him looks from the espresso machine, and he tried to calm down but the sickening cycle of impatience, anger, and guilt had sucked him in.

"Hmm, there are so many choices. What does peppermint mocha spice taste like?" The woman at the front of the line asked, staring at the menu board.

"It tastes like peppermint flavored coffee," Bruce replied tightly.

"Yeah, but is it good?"

Bruce was going to literally beat his head against the counter. "It's pretty popular."

"That's not what I asked. I want to know if it tastes good."

"I don't know! It's just coffee! Why don't you just get something that you know you'll like?"

He could almost hear room to grind to a halt. The woman gaped at him, too surprised at his outburst to even reply. He felt Betty rushing over, the displacement of air rustling napkins and papers.

"Bruce, why don't you go take break? I can handle this."

Bruce nodded, not meeting her eyes. He didn't want to see the worry. "Sorry," he muttered and fled to the kitchen."

"I'm so sorry about that. How can I help you?" he heard as he ripped off his apron and pushed through the double doors.

He gulped in the smells of dough and coffee, trying to center himself. He quickly scrawled a note on the whiteboard by the shop's back entrance and slipped into the mall's side hallways, the ones the employees used to travel from shop to shop.

Blindly, he walked through the hallways until he couldn't hear any noise from the holiday shoppers. He collapsed against the wall and slid down until he could put his head against his knees. Here, his brain was free to slip in its vortex.

"Whoa, two sightings in one day. You okay, cutie?"

Bruce jerked his head up to stare at Clint. "What are you doing here?"

Clint raised an eyebrow, "Hey, even Santas get a break now and then. Officially, I'm feeding the reindeer. Unofficially, I was taking a smoke break. What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," Bruce muttered. "Just sitting."

Clint sat down across from him. "Seriously, you don't look so good. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, that's what you said earlier. I'm still not buying it."

"Yeah, you don't even know me, so you don't have to buy anything," Bruce snapped.

The man stared at him, eyes wide beneath his red hat. Bruce stared back, fighting a blush of shame and anger.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. Uh, have a good one." Clint stood easily, and walked back down the hallway.

Bruce watched him until he turned the corner, then he closed his eyes and put his head back on his knees. He stayed that way, until his phone beeped with a text message. He didn't bother looking, he knew it was Betty. She needed him back at the shop. He slowly stood, and made his way back, fingers trailing along the wall, trying to keep himself present and stable.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Bruce! I know you're in there! If you don't let me in, I'm going to start singing show tunes. And no one wants that to happen."

Bruce groaned and rolled off the couch, onto the floor. He had successfully ignored Tony's earlier calls and texts. But now the man was right outside his door, pounding so hard it seemed to shake the room. He stood shakily, clutching his blanket around himself.

"Bruce? Bruce. Bruce, you're forcing me to do this. Last chance." Bruce could almost feel the weight of Tony's stare through the door.

_"Don't cry for me, Argentina! The truth is I never left you!"_

The shrill notes caused Bruce to jerk back in shock. He was actually doing it. Oh god.

_"All through my wild days, my mad existence. I kept my promise."_

The last note hung in the air, even as Mr. Maloney yelled curses from down the hall. Bruce stumbled to the door, bumping in the coffee table and hitting his shin on an ottoman. Swearing, he hobbled to the door, trying to undo the locks.

_"I love you and I hope you love me. Don't cry for me, Argentina."_

With a grunt, Bruce finally unlatched the last lock, and threw open the door. There stood Tony, hands thrust in his jeans pockets, sunglasses covering his eyes, grinning widely.

"Banner, finally! I can't believe you actually let me get to the second chorus." Tony swept in and came to a sudden halt in the middle of Bruce's messy living room. He slowly took off his sunglasses, and turned around in a circle. 

"What fresh hell is this?" He looked at Bruce and raised his eyebrows. "Oh my god. You look like shit."

Bruce dropped his eyes, acutely aware that he was dressed in nothing but his boxer briefs and the ratty  blanket covering his shoulders. Shrugging, he closed and relocked the door. "Sorry, didn't realize I needed to dress up to have you accost me at 8 in the morning."

Tony's eyebrows went even higher. "It's 12:30 in the afternoon."

"Really?"

"Lose some hours, did we?"

Bruce clutched the edges of the blanket, and said nothing.

Tony sighed, and perched on the arm of the couch. "Look, I'm going back to MIT tomorrow. I just thought it'd be fun to hang out before I go."

Guilt flooded through Bruce. He hadn't realized that Tony was leaving so soon. God, he was a terrible friend. The guilt and shame began its circular spiral in his head, clamoring so loud that he almost missed Tony's soft, "We can just stay here. We don't have go out."

"No it's fine. We'll...we'll go out. Just, um, let me get dressed and stuff."

"Yeah, I'll wait."

He felt the heat of Tony's worried gaze as he shuffled off to his bedroom. He could do this, he could pull himself together for one afternoon.

****

"What I don't understand is how a person who so obviously hates people can work at a job where you are forced to interact with strangers on a regular basis. Uncaffeinated strangers at that!"

"I don't hate people," Bruce sipped at his vodka tonic. He was almost comfortable in the restaurant that Tony had chosen. It was located in the mall, but it didn't do a busy lunch service. There were only a few tables occupied, which meant Bruce could focus solely on Tony instead of being hyper aware of everything else around them.

"You hate being around people. Which, btw, I'll never understand."

"It's just..." Bruce shrugged, "people are a lot of work. It's a lot of work to navigate through all of it."

"All of what?"

"The emotions, the expectations, the energy," Bruce glanced at him, but Tony looked back him blankly. He sighed, "It's just a lot of work."

"Sometimes, it's worth the work, Bruce."

"Hasn't been yet."

Tony snorted, "Right. I'm gonna pay the bill. Don't go anywhere."

He slid out of the booth, and made his way to the bar. Bruce stayed, contemplating the worn wooden table top. Then, sooner than he expected, he heard Tony sit back down.

Without looking up, he said, "You know, I don't think socializing with people will make me any happier."

"Well, it can't make you any sadder." That was not Tony's voice.

Bruce jerked his head up, and stared at the man across from him. Clint was smiling tentatively at him. A thick gray pea coat was unbuttoned over his blue plaid shirt, and his sunglasses were pushed to the top of his head.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce blurted out.

"I was a grabbing a drink with my friend," Clint turned and waved to indicate an older man in a suit sitting at a table by the restaurant entrance. "I saw you sitting here and I thought to myself, well this is strange. This isn't at all where you should be."

Bruce squinted at him, "What do you mean? Where should I be?"

"Well, usually angels are at the top of the Christmas tree, aren't they?" Clint grinned.

Bruce looked at him, while Clint held onto his grin. After a few moments, Bruce leaned back and said evenly, "That was really, really, really bad."

"And yet, it got you to smile."

"I'm not smiling."

"Yeah, yeah you are. Just a little bit at the corners. Just a little, just...ah there it is."

Bruce shook his head, his smile now fully formed. The man was ridiculous, but in a way that Bruce found easy to manage. Effortless even.

Clint leaned forward, "You have a great smile, you should do it more often."

"Yeah, well. It's winter."

At Clint's raised eyebrow, Bruce felt his face heat. He didn't usually talk about this, but the man was so _easy._    "Winter's not...good. For me."

"Oh. Okay. Sure. Was that what the other day was about?"

Bruce lowered his eyes back to the table. "Uh...yeah. I'm sorry about that. I've been...it's been a bad few days."

He chanced a look up, and added, "More like a bad few weeks."

Clint nodded, "Okay. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry that you're having a bad few weeks."

"Oh," Bruce stayed silent for a few seconds. "Thank you."

"Yeah," Clint looked at him, then back over his shoulder. "Well, I should get back to my friend. I'm supposed to help him find a Christmas gift for his girlfriend."

"Yeah, course. Uh, thanks for stopping by?"

"Yep," Clint tapped the table with his knuckles and then paused. "Oh...and uh, don't be surprised if a man wearing a red suit picks you up and throws you in a bag."

Bruce grinned before he could stop himself, "Oh, and why is that?"

With a solemn look on his face, Clint said seriously, "Because I asked for you for Christmas." He tapped the table again, and left.

Almost immediately Tony slid back into the booth. He smirked at Bruce, "And who was that delicious specimen?"

Bruce scowled back, "No one."

"Oh, come on, he definitely looked like someone. Someone with a great smile, and pretty eyes, and a really great nose that you just want to boop." At the last word, Tony reached out and tapped Bruce's nose.

He jerked back and deepened his scowl, "Stop that."

Tony laughed in response, "So you don't hate being around  _all_  people, do you?"

Bruce huffed, "Well I hang out with you, don't I?"

"And thank god for that. But seriously, who was he?"

Bruce shrugged, and watched Clint over Tony's shoulder. He was talking with the man in the suit, and describing something that needed large extravagant hand motions. Then, he jerked a thumb in Bruce's direction, and the suited man turned slightly to meet Bruce's eyes.

Bruce immediately looked away down and slumped in his seat. "Shut up," he hissed as Tony began to laugh.

"Dude, I can't. This is so exciting. I can't remember the last time you were interested in someone."

"I'm not interested. Is he gone?" At Tony's affirmative, he looked up again and sighed. "He's one of the mall Santas. He came into the coffee shop the other day." Bruce then relayed the entire story of their interactions.

"A Santa Claus impersonator who has bad pickup lines? He sounds awesome, and you should go for it."

"I'm not interested, okay?"

"He knows when you've been lying, he knows when you're telling the truth," Tony sang, slightly off key.

Bruce rolled his eyes, "That's not how the song goes."

Tony chuckled as he picked up his glass. Bruce watched as his friend drained the last of his drink. "When do you come back from Boston?"

"Not for awhile. Probably not until summer."

Silence fell between them as Bruce absorbed the news. Not until summer...that was a long time away.

"That's a long time away," he said quietly.

"Yeah, I know," Tony ran his hands tiredly through his hair. "Look, just...I know this is a dark time for you. And I won't be here to...to drag you out, you know? So maybe this guy can be a little light in the darkness for you?"

Bruce swallowed hard, and swirled the melting ice in his glass. "I'll be fine."

"Never said you wouldn't be. Just...it might make it more bearable."

Bruce didn't reply. The silence stretched out between them. Finally, Tony sighed, "Okay, yeah. Never mind. Wanna go to the bookstore? I told Rhodey I'd get him that new book on the Roosevelts."

As they exited the restaurant, Bruce glanced to his right and caught sight of Clint. He and his friend had stopped at a kiosk that was selling crystal ornaments. He was smiling and pointing at one of the pieces on display.

Bruce could almost feel the warmth of that smile, and he had to physically shake himself. There was no light in the darkness. Not for him, and not in the winter. He just had to get through it by himself.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's been a year since I updated this. I am so sorry! But this will be finished! This month! Someone, please hold me accountable :)
> 
> Lemme know how it reads! Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://unnaturalnoise.tumblr.com)!

 

It was hot and it was bright. Bruce huddled under two thick blankets on his couch. He had turned on every light in his small apartment, and the TV flickered through some action movie- he squinted through the small hole in his blankets- _The Fifth Element_. Not bad. He was snuggling into his blankets again when his phone chimed with a incoming text.

This was text number nine. At this point, he was being callous instead of just rude. Sighing, he stretched his hand to flick his phone on. The low battery signal beeped at him, but he ignored it as he read the texts.  

_What do you mean you’re not coming in for a few days? Where are you? (sent Monday at 3:44pm)_

_This is a job, Bruce! You can’t just take off with no explanation!_    _(sent Tuesday at 9:05am)_

_Why aren’t you answering my texts? Are you dead? Even so, call me dammit. (sent Wednesday at 6:02pm)_

_I was kidding about the dead thing. Please don’t be dead. Bruce? (sent Wednesday at 8:00pm)_

_Is it happening again? I thought you said you got help. Bruce, please I’m worried. (sent Wednesday at 8:30pm)_

_I’m going to call Tony. (sent Wednesday at 8:45pm)_

_Yo, big guy! Pick up your phone and call your coffee overlord. She interrupted date night. Rhodey is not pleased! (sent Wednesday at 9:10pm)_

_Bruce, for real. Pick up the phone or I’m going to start calling hospitals and morgues. Rhodey will fly down there, don’t think he won’t. (sent Wednesday at 9:15pm)_

_Okay, he said he won’t, but he’ll drive me down. Bruce? Seriously, no joke. Please call me back. (sent Wednesday at 9:34pm)_

Bruce squinted as his phone beeped at him again. 5 percent battery. He rolled out of his cocoon and stumbled into the kitchen. Looking at his dwindling supply of ramen and beer, he plugged in his phone into his charger and texted both Tony and Betty.

_Hey, I’m alive. Sorry for not responding._

Bruce paused, glanced at his stockpile of food. Quickly he sent his message and stumbled back into his living room.

As he tugged on his boots, he could hear his phone pinging with new text messages. He ignored them- they knew he was alive, that’s all that mattered now. He shrugged on his coat, grabbed his wallet and keys and left.

****

“Chicken or beef? Or spicy garlic chicken? Do I feel adventurous? Do I feel lucky, punk?”

He giggled quietly, stopping when he realized the elderly woman next to him was giving him a look and slowly edging away. He shot her a quick embarrassed smile before returning to his contemplation of ramen flavors. Shrugging, he scooped up two of each flavor, stacking them in his arms. 

“That is a lot of soup.”

Bruce froze, tightening his grip on his food. Shaking his head, he quickly looked down at himself. No food stains or anything else, just shabbiness. That’s okay, he was at a convenience store, he could be shabby.

He turned around to face Clint, who looked like he had just come from a Nordstorm photoshoot. Soft grey sweater with a thick collar and the sleeves pushed up, dark corduroy pants ending in stylish black boots.

“No. Nope. No way.”

“What?” Clint looked at him, puzzled.

“I can’t. I just can’t talk to you when you look like that,” Bruce nodded his head to indicate Clint’s entire body. “Meanwhile, I look like this,” Bruce looked down at himself, “and I just can’t.”

Clint looked startled, then incredibly pleased and smug. “You like the way I look?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, “Well duh, you look like you just did a photo session. You model when you’re not Santa?”

Clint laughed, eyes crinkling, white teeth flashing. Bruce’s stomach flipped over. It is was unaccustomed feeling and so he scowled.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not, I swear I’m not,” Clint said still chuckling. “I’ve never been pegged for a model before, that’s all. I..uh...like the way you look too.”

“Don’t do that,” Bruce shook his head. “Don’t compliment me just because I complimented you.”

“I’m not, really,” Clint protested. “I really do. I...you look...comfortable. Soft, you know? Like this is who you are when you let people in, when you’re not trying so desperately to keep everyone away.”

Bruce blinked at him and Clint stared back, smiling slightly.

Dropped his gaze, Bruce mumbled, “I don’t keep people away.” Then he frowned, “What are you doing here? Do you live around here?”

“Uh, yeah, just a few blocks away actually. Thought I’d pick up some beer, ring in the Christmas Eve.” He held up the six pack in his hand. “And you are buying lots of soup.”

“Yeah, my food supply is out. Thought I had enough to last me the week, but I’m running low.”

Clint frowned, “Is that all you’ve been eating for the past week?”

“If I say no, will you believe me?” 

Slowly, Clint shook his head. “Wow. No. C’mon, I’ll take you out, get a real meal inside you.” He started to move towards the cash register.

“Uh, no thanks.”

“You don’t want real food?”

“No, it’s just, I’m not dressed.”

“You have clothes on."

“No. Look, I don’t want to, okay?” Bruce shoved the ramen cartons back on the shelf and pushed past Clint towards the exit.

He had reached the sidewalk by the road before his guilt rushed over him. There was no need to rude to Clint, he shouldn’t have stormed out like he was having a tantrum. Running his heads through his hair, he groaned and turned back towards the shop. He bumped smack into Clint’s chest.

“Bruce!” Clint’s hands flew out to steady the other man. “Didn’t you hear me call your name?”

“No, sorry. I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t...” Bruce shook his head. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Yeah, no it’s fine. I’m pushy, all my friends and exes tell me so.”

“Still not an excuse for my behavior. I just really wanted to stay inside this week. Just sit on my couch and watch Bruce Willis and not come outside, but then I fucking ran out of food, which was stupid, and I’m hiding from my friends, and…” Bruce blew out a slow breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You wanted to stay inside this week? All week long?” Bruce looked up at Clint’s face. He looked worried. Of course he did. Staying inside for an entire week probably wasn’t normal. He sighed and shook his head.

“Yeah. I’m kinda on a down swing.”

There was a brief silence. Bruce shivered.

“Did you walk here?”

“Uh, yeah. I live over there.” He turned and waved the group of apartment buildings across the turnpike.

“Well I don’t think I understand all of this, but the least I can do is give you a ride home and get you some fast food. Since you didn’t get your soup.”

Bruce thought it over, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He could just go back into the store and buy his ramen. Fast food would mean that he’d have to go out again tomorrow. Then again, he was already out, he could just stay out and hang out with Clint. Then again, Clint was pushy by admission and would probably ask Bruce a bunch of questions. Then again- Bruce glanced at Clint, who was standing patiently, a small smile on his face.

Then again, maybe he didn’t mind Clint’s questions. Clint was easy and his smile was warm, and his eyes were full of light.

Bruce’s apartment was hot and bright, but it was lonely and full of angry and disappointed calls and texts. He wouldn’t be lonely with Clint and-

“If I said no, would you be disappointed?”

Clint blinked, “Well, yes, but not for too long. I hope that I would understand. Are you saying no?”

“No, I’m not. I mean, I’m saying yes. A ride and fast food.”

“Oh goodie!” Clint clapped his hands once, and then linked elbows with Bruce to guide him towards the parking lot. “That’s great, man. Don’t worry, I’ll turn the heat up high and you won’t have to get out of the car. This’ll be the best date ever.”

Bruce tripped. Clint swiftly turned to catch him and keep him from landing face first into the pavement. This close to his face, Bruce could see the mix of colors in Clint’s eyes, lit up from the streetlamps and the store lights.

He leaned back slightly, “A date. No. No, thank you. I don’t date.”

Clint snorted gently, “Yeah I’ve heard. Come on, my truck’s right here." 

Bruce looked up to see to see Clint steering them towards a mid size black truck parked badly in a too small space. Clint opened the passenger door and Bruce concerned himself with trying to climb into the truck and find his seat belt. He shivered again as Clint slid behind the wheel, then sighed and held his hands to the warm vents when the truck grumbled to life.

“I can’t believe you came out without a hat and gloves. It’s cold, man.”

“Thought it’d be a quick trip. Wait. Wait. Heard from whom?”

“What?”

“You said you heard I don't date. Heard from whom?”

“Dude, nice use of the word whom. Plus that was a whole two minutes ago,” Clint said absently as he steered the truck onto the road. “Uh, from your boss. Betty. Oh, and Tony and his boyfriend James.”

“Rhodey. No one calls him James. Well, he calls himself James, Jim actually, but...wait, _what?_ Were you spying on me or something? How did you get in touch with all my friends?”

Clint laughed, “I didn’t. They got in touch with me.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe this was a year and a half ago. Well, I don't forget my WIPs! It's finished!

Bruce sat gaping at Clint as he drove to a nearby fast food restaurant. The lights from the street lamps illuminated Clint’s slight smirk as he patiently waited for Bruce to gather his thoughts together. Finally, Bruce shook his head and closed his mouth. Only to open it again, “I don’t understand.”

Clint shot him an amused look. “Okay. Well, I came by to see you. At the coffee shop? Like, two days ago? And I was asking your boss about you since you weren’t there. And she might have wrangled out of me that I’d been hitting on you and was interested and she mentioned that you didn’t date, but I shouldn’t let that dissuade me because you needed someone in your life. So she was going to try to call you in, but I dunno, you didn’t answer I guess. Then your friend, Tony, face timed me.”

Bruce’s mouth fell open again. Clint shot him a quick look and shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, man, I dunno know how he got my number. All I know is that the day after I spoke to Betty, he and his boyfriend are calling me, asking about my intentions towards you and then he gave me your number and told me I should call you soon. He sounded worried. What would you like?”

“Huh?”

“To eat. What would you like?” Clint gestured towards the drive thru menu they had pulled up next to.

“Oh, uh, just some fries. And a coke. Thank you.”

Clint rolled down his window to order and then pulled up in the line again. “So...are you pissed that I got your number? Or not pissed? Because I’d understand if you were pissed. My friends are also busybodies, and it is super annoying.”

“I…” Bruce stopped and rubbed his forehead. “I think I’m hungry.”

Clint nodded, “Yeah, okay, this can wait until after we eat.” The silence in the car lasted through Clint paying for their food and pulling into a nearby parking space. Clint handed Bruce his food, and said, “I was going to call you tomorrow, so I’m pretty glad that I ran into you.”

“Just, please,” Bruce held up his hand and then used it to push fries into his mouth. “Just give me a moment,” he garbled out through his mouthful.

“Sure.” They ate in silence with Clint sneaking glances at him and Bruce ignoring him to stare out the window, his thoughts adrift. It wasn't until he reached into the bag and hit nothing except greasy paper did he blink and refocus on the situation he currently found himself in. He looked at Clint, who smiled and held out a napkin, and a plastic bag. Bruce wiped his hands and bundled all of his trash into the bag. Clint tossed everything into the backseat, and leaned back against his door, waiting.

Bruce sighed, and looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers in his lap. “Did you ever want to be alone? Just so alone that no one and nothing could ever find you?”

“You mean, like a vacation?” Clint said, slowly.

“No, I mean, just-” Bruce sighed again. “You know those stupid questions that people always ask, if you were stranded on an iceberg, or on a spaceship, or on a deserted island, how would you get home? Those things? I could never answer those. I never understand how someone could achieve perfect solitude, and then want to leave and be around other people.”

Bruce looked up to see a mixture of pity and confusion on Clint’s face. He bit his lip and looked down again. “This is why I don’t date.”

“Because you don’t want to be around people?”

“Because I’ve never found anyone who wanted to be stranded with me. With only me.” He looked back out the window. “Most people want company, you know. Need a community. I don’t think I’ve ever understood that. Where other people need a village...I think I only need maybe 4 person RV.”

Clint didn't seem to have an answer, and Bruce refused to look and see his expression. He breathed on the glass and watched it fog slightly. “I’m not like this. All the time. I just...it’s been a bad winter.”

Another few beats of silence, and then Clint said, “Can I take you somewhere?”

Bruce turned with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not gonna kill me are you?”

“What? No, of course not.”

Bruce shrugged, “Then take me wherever you’d like.”

~<>~

Bruce couldn’t stop giggling. Clint finally turned around and whispered, “Bruce, seriously. Shh. We’re going to get caught.”

Bruce giggled again, and snorted. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to calm himself down. After a moment, he managed, “I’m sorry, sorry. Just when I said take me anywhere, I didn’t think you meant the mall.”

Clint resumed walking, shining his flashlight down the dark service corridors. “Uh-huh. And out of curiosity, what did you think I meant?”

“I don’t know. Like the movies, a bookstore, your apartment. Just not the mall!” Bruce giggled again, but caught himself as Clint turned and glared at him.

“I got something I wanna show you.” Clint paused at a doorway, and produced a key from his jacket pocket. “In here.”

They entered into a storage room, filled with boxes, and Christmas decor. Greenery was strewn across shelves, lifeless reindeer figurines stacked in the corner, and colorfully wrapped presents arranged in rows.

Bruce stared and said with awe, “It looks like the North Pole threw up in here.”

Clint snorted in reply. Clicking off the flashlight, he moved towards a door on the other side of the room. Bruce followed, trying not to step on anything fragile. Clint slowly inched the door open, peeking through to make sure there was no one around. Then he waved to Bruce to follow him. As Bruce stepped through, he realized that he had been more correct than he knew. He was at the North Pole that had set up in the mall. He stared in all directions, noting the elaborate decorations and oversized candy canes and gumdrops. Then he finally looked at Clint. “What the hell.”

Clint grinned and threw his arms wide, “Welcome to the North Pole!”

He marched over to Santa’s chair and plopped down. Patting his thighs, Clint sent him a leering grin, “Why don’t you come sit on my lap and tell me you’ve been a good boy?”

Bruce smiled and shook his head, “You’ve already used that one on me.”

Clint frowned, “I have?”

“Yeah, the first time we’ve met.”

“Damn. Okay, how about...come over and sit on my lap. I’ve got something special, just for you.”

“Oh, wow. So terrible.” Bruce glanced at the locked gate that blocked the North Pole off from the rest of the mall. There was no one out there, this entire wing of the mall was dimmed, lit up only by emergency lights.  He walked over to Clint who had now slumped slightly and spread his legs open, still with a grin. Bruce said, “God, you’re so easy.”

“In the best of ways.”

“No, I mean, you’re just easy to be around.” Bruce climbed up the steps of the chair, and sat in Clint’s lap, as if he were a little kid waiting to recite his wish list.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Clint asked as he adjusted for Bruce’s weight.

“Yeah.” Bruce leaned his head on Clint’s shoulder and stared at the tall Christmas tree that was off to the side of the chair. It was decorated so that families could stop and take pictures next to it. He put his hand on Clint’s chest, and felt the rhythm of his breathing. He closed his eyes, trying to match it. He felt Clint's arms tighten around him.

“I don’t normally sit on stranger’s laps, by the way.”

“I’m not a stranger,” Clint’s breath was warm on his ear. “I’m Santa Claus.”

Their banter was familiar, a parody of when they first met. He smiled, keeping his eyes closed. “Well, Santa, are you gonna give me what I want for Christmas?”

“And what is it that you want?”

Bruce’s smile dropped, and he focused on the rise and fall under his hand. He moved his hand slightly until he felt Clint’s heartbeat, thrumming gently. “I want someone who knows that sometimes I’m not okay and is okay with me not always being okay.”

Clint didn’t reply, but Bruce felt lips brush his forehead. He felt his throat start to close up and he sniffed hard. “This is stupid.”

“No it’s not,” Clint said quietly. “There’s nothing stupid about wanting someone who sees all of your crazy and accepts it.”

“Yeah, well, there’s something stupid about being this type of crazy. Christ, I can’t even-” Bruce pushed himself upright. “It’d be almost better, you know, if I was all the way nuts. Like, all the time. But this fucking halfway shit. This complete fucking nonsense, knowing that people don’t behave like this, knowing that I’m drowning, and I can’t save myself. I can’t even fucking swim.”

He clambered off Clint’s lap and stomped a few feet away, panting. He pushed his hands through his hair, and let the tears fill his eyes until they burned.

“Can you really not swim?”

“What?”

“Can you really not swim?”

“No, I heard you, I just-” Bruce turned at look at Clint, who was standing a foot away, hands in his pockets, his head tilted curiously to the side. “I’m not very good at it. I know all the strokes, but I can’t tread water.”

Clint nodded seriously, “Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What’s the problem”

“Well, you can’t go through life always swimming. You’ll get tired. At some point, you just have to tread water.”

Bruce stared at him for a few seconds, and then shook his head in disbelief. He wiped his eyes, and said, “But I don’t know how.”

“Can I show you?” Clint held out his hand.

Bruce took it slowly, and let himself be led to the Christmas tree that had filled his sight before. Clint took him to the back of the tree where there was a small entrance.

“Why is this tree hollow?”

“This one is just for the family photos. They get a real one for the main entrance. So they need this one to be open inside so it can maintenanced for the pictures. It's actually just branches glued over this metal shell. But, watch this.” He crawled in and made room for Bruce to crawl in after him.

Once they were settled, Clint flicked a switch. Bruce gasped as the tree came alive around them. White gold lights surrounded them lighting up the space underneath the tree. The lights were gathered in dozens of snowflake patterns and they swayed gently from the metal beams that held the tree in place.

“Yeah, they put lights in here to balance the lights on the outside of the tree. It makes the tree glow better. Or something like that.” Clint moved closer to him until their sides molded together. Bruce felt him as one hot long line down his side, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the lights.

“I come here sometimes. Break into the mall, and just sit here under this tree. I just settle myself and wait until I get the energy to go back out there.”

“What do you do when the tree is gone?” Bruce rolled his head to look at Clint’s profile.

“I find other places where I can turn my head off. You would not believe how cool the inside of the Easter Bunny’s basket is. It’s like a sensory deprivation tank.”

“You’re also the Easter Bunny?”

“Oh man, I am everything,” Clint said with a laugh. Then he turned his head until their foreheads touched. With a small smile, he reached over to grasp Bruce’s hand. “I’m sorry that you don’t feel okay. But I’m okay with you not being okay.”

Bruce’s expression twisted as he fought back the sudden tears. He sniffed, and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Thanks, Santa.”

Clint cleared his throat, “Um. I have a confession to make.” He paused, then said, “I’m not really Santa Claus.”

Bruce looked at him solemnly. “Well, that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, because I forgot to put out milk and cookies. I was gonna put out me instead.”

Clint stared at him, and after a few moments, said with deep feeling, “That was god awful.”

“Now you know how it feels.”

“Mine are not nearly that bad.”

“Oh my god, yes they are!”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“No. Nope. My lines are awesome.”

Bruce shoved Clint away from him. “Fuck you, they’re terrible.”

Laughing, Clint grabbed his hands, and pulled Bruce into a hug. They settled back against the metal insides of the tree and watched lights.

Bruce said quietly, “Happy Christmas to all.”

Clint replied just as softly, “And to all a good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me! [tumblr ](http://unnaturalnoise.tumblr.com).


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